


She who bends the world

by acricketschirp



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, my specialties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 13:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10219487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acricketschirp/pseuds/acricketschirp
Summary: the life and times of Solona Amell before she left the tower and the subsequent ripples she left behind -from the memories of an ex-templar





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write a solid plot to save my life, so here have some more glimpses into a whole other (admittedly not as happy) relationship

Maker, was she strange. She was relentlessly cheerful and insatiably curious, and apparently had the temper of an enraged bereskarn as he’d come in on her once with another of the mages in a headlock as she shoved his face in a table.

“Tell me that fire spells are better one more time, _I dare you_.” Even now he could hear the outraged scream to her voice, as the mage tried to struggle free. Cullen had started moving after a moment of stunned silence, prying her off the other mage, ever conscious of his hands wrapped around her slender wrists as he wondered in the back of his mind how someone so slim could hold a full grown man down like this. She’d wheeled on him in an instant, seeming ready to fight _him_ but as soon as she saw it was him she stilled. Her long black hair was hanging raggedly around her face and those brown eyes cooled impossibly quickly. She flushed slightly, a sheepish smile quirking her lips upward, replacing the anger that had been there before just like that. The other mage had scurried away, and was watching her with a wary, distrustful eye as if she might leap on him again.

“What is the problem?” he’d asked coolly.

“Our debate simply got a little heated, no harm done.” He tried not to pay attention to the color in her cheeks, “Now may I please have my hands back, ser?” He’d dropped her wrists immediately, having forgotten he still held her, trying to disregard the smile still on her lips.

“Of course, I can’t let this go unanswered.” He said gruffly, trying to assume control even though he’d all but lost it already, “Come with me.” She sighed, but other than that hadn’t shown any signs of upset or repentance that she’d gotten caught trying to strangle one of her colleagues.

“Should I save us both some time, ser, and just go start peeling potatoes for the next few days?”

“You will certainly get more of a punishment than that, mage.” This word was the first one that caused her smile to fall, though only just barely, “Throttling your fellow apprentices is not exactly smiled upon.”

“It is if they’re a stupid fuck.” She’d muttered, and he’d only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes at her.

As it were she’d ended up in the kitchens peeling potatoes. As they’d told her this, she’d looked over at him and he’d had to turn away because that smile was going to be the death of him.

 

He could still remember the first time he’d seen her. He’d been 15 for all of a week, barely able to wear the Templar armor without falling over and she’d already been at the Circle for 10 years. She’d been following one of the senior enchanters down the hall that Greagoir was taking him down, her dark hair falling out of the green ribbon that held it away from her face, and as they’d passed each other she’d seen him. She’d grinned at him, and his heart had all but stopped, but then she was gone, asking a dozen questions of the older mage. Even when Greagoir had shown him his room, he could still hear her voice lingering in his ear, could still see the bright smile.

 

He’d met her formally that night when she’d encountered him in that same hall as she’d been going to the sleeping quarters. He would’ve walked past her, but she’d stopped him.

“You’re the new Templar! Maker it’s nice to see someone different, the same people all the time are so boring.” She’d grinned, tossing her dark hair behind her shoulder, “I’m Solona Amell. What’s your name?” He’d been a little unsure of how to respond, not knowing if he was allowed to simply chat with the mages, but he’d answered her as her face had creased confusedly over his silence.

“Cullen.” His voice had cracked as he said it and he could’ve died from the embarrassment, but she just gave him another smile, pretending like she’d never heard it.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Cullen. Have a good night.” Then she’d tripped off, humming cheerfully and leaving him with an odd mix of feelings.

 

One night he’d come across her in one of the many libraries, it had been late and she’d been absorbed in a book. He would’ve left her alone, but her hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders and down her back and he was for a moment riveted on her as she turned a page, expression thoughtful. He was used to seeing the black locks bound up out of her way, and he thought she looked strange with it down like that, like she was just a normal girl studying her textbook. Not a mage locked in a tower. He lingered a moment too long though, because she eventually noticed his presence and looked up.

“Hello Cullen.” She said lightly, “Having a good night so far?”

“It is fine.” He said, unable to make his tongue form any other words. She seemed puzzled after he didn’t follow up on this, but then she smoothed her pale features over.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He replied tersely, “It is late, Miss Amell.” She looked around at the empty library and didn’t seem too surprised she was the only one there.

“I suppose it is. I’m just studying though, nothing too illegal. Are you done for the night?”

“I am.”

“Perhaps you’d like to keep me company then? I’ve been reading about… demons and abominations and it’s… antsy.” She seemed troubled as she said this, looking down at her book, “Makes me afraid of my Harrowing.” She chuckled at herself then, “Silly of me right?”

“It should certainly be approached with caution and treated with delicacy. It is not an easy process, nor should it be taken lightly.”

“I guess that’s true.” She said, not saying anything about the fact that was probably the longest sentence he’d ever spoken to her, “Still, I’ll have to walk the Fade and willingly speak with a demon. That frightens me.”

“You could be made Tranquil.” He offered, then astonished when her normally healthy pallor drained of all color and she stared up at him with horrified doe-brown eyes.

“That would be a fate worse than death, I think.” She whispered, her fingers clenching the edge of the table as if he’d just threatened to cut her throat open right there.

“You would have peace.”

“Whatever you may think, _ser_ ,” her voice had a harder tone to it than he’d thought the girl capable of in the span of an instant, “surely you realize _that_ is not peace. I would sooner become an abomination.” She stood up as she said this, slamming the book shut with a snap, “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s late.” Her voice was frigid and he was startled to feel the faint stirrings of guilt as she stalked past him. Before he could stop himself, he caught her arm before she left.

“I did not mean to upset you, Miss Amell.”

“Then perhaps you should think before you speak.” Was her reply, before she shook his hand off of her arm and disappeared down the hallway.

 

The next time he found her studying alone, he hesitated only a moment before walking over to her table and sitting at it. He didn’t say anything at first, until she glanced up at him.

“Cullen.” Her greeting was marginally cooler than it normally was, but he didn’t let it faze him.

“Good evening, Miss Amell. I trust you’re doing well?”

“I’m fine.” She said, still looking at him suspiciously, “And how’re you?”

“Sorry that I offended you.”

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise, “Well thank you for the… apology.” She still sounded unsure, but he just shrugged at her before taking out his sword so that he could make sure there wasn’t any rust or wear on it.

“Do you mind if I keep you company?”

“That’s…” she paused a moment before giving him a small smile, “perfectly fine with me actually.” They fell into a comfortable silence then, with her returning to her book and him tending his gear as the fire crackled warmly behind them. As he sat beside her he would steal glances at her, some part of him locking onto the fact her hair was down again and every now and then her fingers would push loose tendrils out of the way as she read. At some point she heaved a sigh, her elbows on the table on either side of the book, and her hands combing her hair back from her face. Cullen glanced at her, and she gave him a wry smile.

“Magic is hard.”

“Perhaps it’ll come to you more easily after your Harrowing.”

“I guess it would.” She said, “It’ll be a relief at any rate. I am tired of… waiting, you know?” He could still think of the days he’d spent training to be a Templar and how everyday seemed to grow longer as he got closer to the date where he’d get formally accepted into the whole order.

“It is a big step for a mage.” He said simply.

“I just hope I don’t hurt anyone.” She said, a frown tugging her lips downwards, “If I should fail that is.”

“We won’t allow it.” He thought that perhaps she’d react badly to that, but instead she directed a peculiar little smile at him.

“That is a sort of comfort.” She stood up then, barely suppressing a yawn, “At any rate, I think it’s time I head for bed. I have lessons with Wynne early tomorrow morning.”

“Have a good night, Miss Amell.” He said.

“You can just call me Solona you know. Or Sol, that’s what most people call me.” She said it almost reproachfully and he thought that she meant it as more of a demand than a suggestion.

“Very well, have a good night Miss Sol.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Goodnight Ser Cullen.” He gave her a reproving glare, before she just smiled, “And thank you for staying with me. It was nice to not be alone.” As she walked past him, she brushed his shoulder with one of those slim hands that he would later see try and strangle one of her fellow mages.

 

He tried to not think of her touch too hard or too much, but it would come up at times. Not even times that would make sense either. But when he was guarding the entrance of the tower on late nights as he listened to his fellow Templars speak of the mages or the Chantry or whatever struck their fancy. Or sometimes when he was passing through the library to go to guard duty. It hadn’t even been that much of a touch, he thought exasperatedly at himself, just an absent pat on the shoulder. There it stayed though, and Maker help him when she was in the same room as him. It was all he could do to not stare after her.

She stayed late in the library only once a week and he tried to avoid going every time at first, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle as he started going every other week. Part of him knew the whole time that this was a bad idea and it would eventually develop into a bad situation, but part of him simply didn’t care. Because he liked those nights, it was nice to find companionship in someone else. Being trained for the Templar order since he was a boy hadn’t allowed a whole lot of time for friends or even normal acquaintances, and he knew that being in the Circle had deprived her of that sort of thing as well. Sure she knew all of these people and had grown up with them, but it was often looked down upon for the apprentices to get too attached to each other.

This in fact was by no means following his own rules. He shouldn’t have been fraternizing with someone he might have to kill one day, the Templar laws dictated that, but he didn’t think there was that much harm in this. In sitting with her and occasionally speaking with her when she wasn’t reading or simply staring off into space. It didn’t go past that, they didn’t confess their life stories to the other, merely mentioned this or that and then talked about magic or demons or the Chantry or sometimes she would even ask about the Templar order. She seemed to constantly be on the quest for some kind of knowledge, whether it was meaningful or not.

He did know that one of her favorite subjects to talk about was the outside world. As someone who’d been given away to the Circle when she was only three, she didn’t know what it was like and it shocked him when she would ask things like ‘How many kinds of birds are there?’ or ‘Have you ever seen the ocean Cullen?’ before he remembered that she had never gotten to see any of that. It was almost sad to him, to see someone so openly excited to talk about these things simply because she’d never seen them.

It was perhaps what made him first think that the Circles weren’t quite as good as he’d been taught. That while they were there to keep everyone safe, that these were still _humans_ locked away in here. With eagerness in their eyes and winning smiles on their lips.

 

One day when she was 16 they thought she’d run. It had taken until midafternoon for this to occur to anyone, when there were several complaints to Irving over the fact that Solona hadn’t shown up to her lessons. There was an idle sort of search for her, after all no one was worried that the good-natured girl had run, but as the hours passed and there was no sign of her it was suggested they go check the phylacteries. Cullen was there when it was announced hers was gone, and even to this day he could remember how utterly cold he’d been. Upset that she’d done something stupid and she’d get hunted and dragged back, made Tranquil or killed. Upset that he was upset not just because it was an escaped mage and that was dangerous, but upset because just the night before she’d been acting normally and had touched his hand when she’d been speaking, leaving a warmth that shot into his veins and stayed there. Even now. There had been no sign of distress or anything that might have indicated she was plotting this. Or that she was unhappy.

As they searched the Circle once more, he heard Greagoir giving orders to a group of hunters, and he felt faintly sick over this as they left into the stormy night. The wind was howling outside, lightning streaking across the sky, thunder shaking the rafters of the tower, and all he could think was that she wouldn’t survive out there. She didn’t know how to work the world in the slightest, nor would she live long enough to figure it out because he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling the Templars would come back with only the tidings of a body. Did she even known how to swim? That thought almost made him laugh at himself, but he was far too worried to be truly amused as he leaned against the wall, his hand over his eyes as he wondered how stupid she could truly be. Or for that matter how stupid he could truly be.

It was a whim then, to keep on going up the stairs, to maybe go let the storm clear his mind and erase her from his head. That would be for the best, he thought, to simply forget she’d ever been there. As he got to the roof entrance and opened it, he knew that her smile was already too ingrained in his veins for him to forget her in only a moment. The storm was shrieking even more loudly, a veritable tempest of chaos. He almost retreated, the storm gathering too much strength off of the lake for him, but then he saw it. Or rather he saw _her_. She was standing on the broad stone rail of the tower, fighting the wind and the rain, her black hair whipping around her in a tornado. He was shocked into stillness at first, unable to fully compute what he was seeing, but then he fully realized the danger of the situation.

Cullen ran out, calling her name, but the wind whipped it away before it reached her. As he got nearer he saw her hands were clenched and she was screaming something, but he couldn’t make out the words. Not that it particularly mattered to him in the current circumstance. He wrenched her down from the railing then, and she fought at first, spinning around to see who had grabbed her. Her black hair was sticking to her face with the rain, and between the lightning flashes he could see that her eyes were wild, frantic.

“What are you doing?” he snapped over the clap of thunder above them, “What the bleeding hell are you _doing_?” She tried to shake him off of her, but he kept his steadfast hold on her.

“Why did they give me up?” he was beyond perplexed at what she was referring to, before she continued, seeming half insane to the Templar, “Why didn’t they _care_ for me? Was magic so evil to them that I had to be given away as soon as I showed even the slightest hint of it?”

“Why are you doing this _now_?” he asked in disbelief, realizing she was referring to her parents.

“Why didn’t they love me? Why didn’t they write letters? I thought parents were supposed to protect you and love you, no matter what, but they threw me _here_!” She was borderline hysteric, and Cullen started pulling her back towards the tower, as she fought against him, “Just leave me _alone_ Cullen. I want to _leave_.” The Templar however was not giving in quite so easily to her, as he all but picked her up and hauled her away from the rooftop, “I want to find them and ask them _why_? What’s so _wrong_ with me?” He flinched at this, but didn’t waver his stride until they’d gotten to the doorway, whereupon she redoubled her fighting, “Let me _go_ , let me go right _now_ Cullen. You don’t understand this, you _can’t_ understand this.” She wasn’t hitting him, merely trying to escape his grasp, but the Templar was quickly losing patience regardless.

“Just _stop_ already, Sol.” He yelled over the storm, “What are you even thinking?”

“I would’ve been a good kid, I was a good kid here. I wouldn’t have hurt anyone or used my magic, I wouldn’t have gotten possessed. I would’ve turned into someone they could be proud of.” He was stunned this was all coming out right now, and as he finally managed to wrench her inside she tried to bolt again, but he once more restrained her, pressing her against the wall as rain dripped off of him and ran in rivulets down his armor. He stared down at her, noticing there were tears on her face and that her robes were soaked through, and she’d never looked so small before.

“Why didn’t they give me the chance?” she whispered, her voice hoarse as she stared up at him pleadingly, her hands pressed against his chest as she stopped struggling so hard, “Why couldn’t they have _tried_ loving me?” His hands were on her shoulders, and even though there seemed to be only a small chance of her trying to escape again, he was reluctant to draw away from her, “I would’ve done whatever they wanted.”

“I have no answers for you, Sol. But you must calm down.” He replied, knowing that it was true and anything he said might just make it worse. As it happened though, once he said this her left hand lashed out, catching him across the face.

“Don’t you tell me that, don’t you act like this is nothing just because it doesn’t affect you.” She said sharply, her tears still falling and voice still breaking over every other word, “Don’t you have any sympathy left in you?”

“You are a mage.” His brain was locked up and the words were out of his lips before he could stop them. She looked like he’d just slapped her back, and was silent with the exception of her ragged breathing and the dripping of the water off their clothes onto the stone floor.

“I’m a person, Cullen.” She whispered disbelievingly, before her voice rose sharply, “I’m a _person_.” She was back to quiet now, staring up at him with pleading eyes, “Surely you know that. Surely you see me as more than my parents did. Please…”

“I am not supposed to see you as more than that.” He replied softly, staring at a spot above her shoulder, “Surely _you_ know that. So even if I did know how to comfort you, I wouldn’t be allowed to. I need to take you back downstairs and stop this whole Circle from panicking over the fact you and your phylactery disappeared.”

“I only took it because I just wanted to be alone today.” She said, starting to resign herself to defeat as her shoulders slumped and her eyes dropped.

“What brought this on?” he asked then, wishing she would look at him, but knowing that this was how it was supposed to be as much as it unsettled him.

“It was partially the book I’ve been reading, partially because everyone was talking about the letters they got from home today. It just never occurred to me fully that as soon as my parents dropped me off here, they cut off any ties there might’ve been. That the people who brought me into this world, left me to it just as easily.”

“A mage child is a handful. They did what they thought was best.” Again this seemed to be the wrong thing to say, and he had never seen fury pass over her face like that.

“No they didn’t.” Tears were hanging in her eyes, “Greagoir found me crying out in the middle of a blizzard with nothing but the ragged dress on my back. They hadn’t told anyone about me, just left me there in the snow. So you can’t possibly tell me that was what was best. Not even a Templar would think that.” He couldn’t help but wince slightly at this, though he knew inwardly he deserved it because even though he was being a Templar now, he hadn’t been a Templar every time he was with her. Not like he should’ve been. Templars were supposed to maintain a distance between themselves and their charges, but he hadn’t put that clear boundary between himself and Solona. It showed now too, because she needed comfort and he was considering giving it to her.

“You’re right.” He said then, voice quiet, “They mistreated you severely and failed in their jobs as parents. But,” he didn’t want to say this, didn’t want to let it out in the open, “it wasn’t your fault. You are innocent. You know that magic is dangerous though, you know that it can go wrong even in the mages with the best intentions. It is fortunate that you ended up here, where you could grow up safely, because there are people out there that would harm you just because you had the slightest ability of magic.”

“There are people in here like that.” She didn’t sound as angry now, just sad and exhausted.

“Less than there are outside of the Circle. Especially since we are far more lenient than other Circles. You are not being threatened every moment of every day with the Rite of Tranquility at the smallest hint of dissension. This is a good place to be, about as good as a mage can have it.” The words sounded discordant even to his own ears, and though her hand had curled into a fist, she didn’t move.

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Cullen.” She said, staring up at him blankly as the lightning flashed once more. He needed to take her down the stairs, but his feet were stuck there in front of her, and he closed his eyes, wishing that he had more willpower in the face of teary brown eyes.

“What will make you feel better then?” he asked agitatedly, “Would you like me to tell you that they should never have abandoned you? That they should’ve let you run free, at the prey of any wandering demon? Should I tell you that maybe you wouldn’t destroy a whole village simply because you got into an argument? You have an insurmountable amount of power within you, you could raze cities, Solona, in a fit of piqued rage. You are dangerous, to yourself and to other people and the most we can do for you is keep you here and watch out for you. That is all the comfort I can offer, that at least here your chances of turning into an abomination and hurting someone are much slimmer, and maybe one day after you complete your Harrowing you’ll be able to leave this place and explore some like I know your heart yearns to do. Even if it’s to just another Circle, you will get out of here one day and you’ll see the ocean and the birds and the mountains and you’ll find some happiness there within them. Your parents no longer matter, what they did no longer matters, because you’re a mage and you must focus on that. Grow wise and strong so that demons aren’t as much of a threat, show the world that you’re not all bad. Take advantage of the life that was given to you.” He examined her face then, his jaw tightening, “And for the love of the Maker, Sol, _stop_ crying please.” She moved then, shoving herself off of the wall and wrapping her arms around his waist, and pressing her cheek against the cool armor. Every part of him screamed that he shouldn’t be doing this, that he shouldn’t even _think_ about doing this, but his hands seemed to move on their own bidding as he put them around her, every inch of him highly aware of every place of contact even with his armor. He leaned back against the wall, keeping her against him as she perhaps cried some more or tried to calm down, glaring out of the open door at the rain still sheeting down outside.

 

When he took her back downstairs later that night, she was calm and dry-eyed as she walked beside him. Even when they yelled at her for doing something so foolhardy and she was put on restriction, she just nodded and apologized for upsetting everyone, and it had surely not been her intention. They’d all seemed nonplussed at her reaction and about her disappearance, but she didn’t tell them the reasons she’d done it, just accepted her punishment then went to bed.

Cullen was congratulated on finding her and bringing her back down without incident, they told him he’d make a fine Templar and that perhaps it was time to give him more responsibilities.

He’d thanked them and was torn between pride and the coldness she’d left inside him in her wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I loved you then I love you now and I have loved you every second in between.  
> -Lisey's Story, Stephen King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a slight forewarning there is some rather heavily implied sex (as in not implied, absolutely there, but not explicit).

She was… quiet after her episode on the roof. That was the best way to describe her. She went to her lessons and she went to the library and she read, but there was something in her eyes that was almost subdued. She didn’t talk as much to him, and she certainly didn’t smile as much either as much as it pained him. Though there was some relief to see that it was still the same grin that could get under your skin and stay there when she did.

Once he’d caught her outside of the apprentices’ quarters, a couple weeks after the incident. He had been about to take up his nightly patrols and he’d been passing through when he’d seen her caught up staring outside of a window. Curious, he’d walked over to her and she’d glanced up at him, giving him a small, though sincere smile.

“The moon’s very pretty tonight.” It was a huge full moon, silver in the inky backdrop of the sky, big enough to almost drown out the stars that hovered beyond her. The reflection was twinkling and shimmering over the surface of Lake Calenhad, a liquid mirror of black silk.

“I used to dream when I was but a girl here, that one day I’d sail away into the moon’s reflection, clothed only in the night and bathed in silver.” She laughed softly at herself then, “Foolish, right?”

“I think it would suit you.” He’d said it absently, unthinkingly, his mind distracted from the spellbinding ripple of the moonlight on water and very much unaware of what passed his lips. It hit him only a moment later, and he all but tripped over himself stepping away from her, his face heating up.

“No, no I didn’t- I apologize… that was out of line. I did not mean…” He was stumbling over his words in the face of the light blush on her own cheeks as she stood rigidly at attention, and he focused his stare on the wall, finally getting out the words, “Please, forgive my heedlessness Miss Amell.”

“It’s okay.” Her own voice was a squeak and Cullen wished for nothing more than the whole tower come under assault at once or perhaps maybe the floor just suddenly fall through and swallow him up. Anything to escape this conversation or erase it from both of their memories. Or maybe just kill him at least. Before he could beat a hasty retreat, he felt her hand wrap around his arm, stilling him.

“Cullen, I-” he saw the flash in her eyes, and even as quickly as it left, he was still marginally faster. He pulled out of her grasp, giving her a slight bow for some reason unbeknownst to him.

“I really must get back to my patrol.” She’d been so taken aback at his abruptness, and he’d softened his harsh tone, “P-perhaps another time.” He could’ve hit himself for this, but unexpectedly she just gave him an odd sort of smile before nodding.

“Have a good night, Cullen.”

“And you too.” He replied as she brushed past him, her feet barely making a noise on the cold stone below them. He was frozen to his spot for a couple minutes, trying to figure out what that smile had meant, trying to figure out if she was upset or hurt or offended.

When he could no longer stand there, he numbly made his way to his post, his mind filled with a violent onslaught of _her_ , nothing but _her_. He was confused and troubled, knowing full well that he shouldn’t feel like this at all for a mage, but unable to stop thinking about her black hair tumbling down her back as she sat in front of a fire or of her defying the elements all alone in a hurricane. Of how utterly _strange_ she was. He didn’t know how someone could be so gentle and so wild all at once, and how he could be so entranced by her. Because even now all he wanted to do was seek her out and… Cullen abruptly cut himself off from his thoughts then, because this was dangerous. If he allowed himself to linger on her then he would be completely lost. He sighed, putting a hand to his head, half wishing he’d never met her.

The minutes ticking by felt like days to him as he stood watch in a silent, dark hall with nothing to occupy him but his own mindless thoughts. Which were simply put, frustrating. He glanced out of a nearby window at the moon again, noting that it was high in the sky now and not quite as silver as it had been. He absently walked over to it, leaning against the wall as he stared out at the black lake before him. He was restless and bored, and wished for once that there was someone else standing guard with him, but the nearest other Templar was on the other side of the tower.

It was as he was about to doze off that he was distracted by a soft noise. Immediately on alert, his hand fell to his sword and he looked down the dark hall, lit only by a few torches. Before he could draw it though, he recognized the figure and was actually in fact more irritated with her than distracted by her presence this time.

“Miss Amell, it is late-” Before he could continue, she was in front of him, and suddenly there was lips on his. He told himself to push her away, to send her back to her room, and to not give in, but instead his hands had other ideas. The first and foremost being holding her against him, and then shortly after pulling her even _closer_.

“No, this is not appropriate. We must _stop_.” He barely managed to get out as she drew away only a moment to catch her breath, before she shook her head at him and she was pulling his head down again kissing him in an almost rough manner. Despite having kissed a couple merchant’s daughters, this was different and altogether new to him. Because this was Solona who he’d pressed up against the wall, not some neighbor girl who he barely knew. It was black as coal hair threaded into his fingers and smooth, unworn hands on his skin, and Cullen knew that as the minutes passed and their breathing grew more ragged that this was swiftly going in an absolutely wrong direction. It was only the Templar part of his brain that rebelled, but it was growing fainter and fainter. He wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if they both hadn’t heard the clank of armor around the corner. She’d drawn away immediately, brown eyes wide before she glanced up at him.

“Sorry.” She whispered, before rapidly smoothing down her hair and robes and ducking away from him. He could tell in the faint torchlight there was an irresistible flush to her cheeks, and it almost hurt him to watch her walk away calmly, greeting Greagoir politely as she walked past him.

“Go to bed, Solona, it’s late.” He said gruffly, though Cullen knew he wasn’t actually annoyed at her. Despite the two arguing constantly, the knight commander held a certain fondness for Solona, being the one who had found her when she was a child.

“So why’re you up?” she asked, and Cullen just barely caught the off-note in her voice, and for some reason he almost smiled. Despite how bad this was and how much he wanted her back against him, and how torn between guilt and some strangely light feeling he was, he still couldn’t help but smile.

Like some lovestruck fool.

 

Their days were surprisingly normal after that, he would still visit her in the library and she would talk to him about magic and demons and ask about the outside world. Sometimes she would ask about his family and as he tried to describe how his mother always smelled like sword polish and how his father smelled like fire, as he spoke of his sisters and brother how he was the second oldest, she would watch him with the most bittersweet gleam to her eyes he’d ever seen.

“You’re lucky you know.” She said once, and he couldn’t help but agree. She wasn’t mad or resentful though, on the contrary she seemed genuinely glad that he still had his family. And even frequently reminded him to write to them. Sometimes she would pull up a chair beside him as opposed to staying at the head of the table while he sat to her left, and she would try to teach him about what magic felt like. Sure she didn’t have much experience with the big spells, but she could cast some minor ones and he would listen to her intently as she tried to capture the feeling of it with only words.

“It’s like there’s a fire inside you, not too hot though. It’s just comfortably warm and _reassuring_. Like, like hm…” she seemed at a loss for words for a moment, before she stumbled on an idea, “I think it would be like if your mother hugged you. It makes you feel safe, and whole. If I didn’t have it, it would be like losing any source of security I have left.” It made sense now as to why she’d gotten so upset over his Tranquil comment from what seemed like forever ago, while it was barely a year ago, “Does that make any sense or am I babbling?”

“I think I understand.” He’d said, wishing the Templar in the next aisle over would go away so he could tell her that he was sorry. She’d seemed to pick up on it though, and gave him that smile that could turn him inside out without effort. He’d wished she was normal so he could put his arm around her, and run his fingers through the black lengths of her hair without any consequences. But as she spoke more of magic and what it felt like with that excited gleam in her brown eyes, he knew there was a very good chance she wouldn’t be who she was if she weren’t a mage.

At some point he uncrossed his arms and before he could stop them, his fingers reached out and brushed her arm, causing her to pause only a moment in her talking and nudge him teasingly before she went right back to speaking again.

That night when he escorted her back to her room like he was supposed to do, he’d wanted to pull her into the nearest closet, but the halls seemed lined with Templars for some reason so he had to keep his distance as they walked, and she’d given him a regretful little smile before she’d ducked into her room.

 

As each day turned into a week and each week turned into a month, he found the pull of her stronger and stronger, almost unbearably so. Because it was just her in his thoughts, his dreams, and his every waking moment.

If he was ever around when she was in her lessons, he would find himself watching how her hands would twist in the air and how when she got it right she’d react as excitedly as if she’d just figured out how to cast Blizzard as opposed to a small flicker of snow across her palms. He would find himself smiling slightly, and would have to immediately rearrange his face into a solemn expression and attempt to make his eyes go somewhere else other than her.

He had taken to asking Greagoir for the late night shifts, saying that he worked better at night anyways, but really because sometimes she would steal out of her room if the patrols were light and she’d keep him company. Sometimes talking, sometimes not.

 

One night she pulled _him_ into a closet, and it was all fumbling fingers and shaking hands as they tried to keep quiet, while figuring out that the mechanics of sex in a closet were _hard_. Forget that it was the first time either one of them had ever even seen someone else unclothed before, what did you do with your arms and your legs? Did you shut your eyes, keep them open? Was it alright if you tried to explore every part of them with your hands? And was that _supposed_ to make that noise?

It was a horror and a wonder, and she was in turn laughing off the mistakes they were making and reassuring him that he was fine, no he wasn’t hurting her, and yes she would be most delighted if he did that, thank you for asking. 

And when they finally managed to work it out the Templar part of his brain might as well have been nonexistent as he sunk to the floor with her leaning against him as they both waited for their legs to stop quivering. Her hair was in his face as he rested his cheek against the top of her head, and her hand was sprawled lightly on his chest, the other tucked between them on top of his own hand. He allowed himself to forget for a few moments that she was a mage and he a Templar, and that there was no possible way for them to actually be together. Instead he let himself believe that everything was okay, and was only brought back down to earth when she kissed his cheek and he felt that her cheeks were wet. Because she realized that this was not a fairy tale, and they needed to get back to what they were supposed to be doing.

He hadn’t wanted that wake up call, but he knew that it was necessary as he hesitantly put a hand to her head and pressed her lightly against him, lips against the top of her head.

“Thank you.” She whispered after she helped him put his armor back on, and he took her hand and kissed the back of it like some old fashioned knight, glad when it made her smile and roll her eyes.

“Thank _you_.” Then he’d walked out of the closet, gazing hesitantly around before gesturing for her that it was safe. With one last look at each other, she’d gone one way and he’d gone the other.

 

The next day Greagoir pulled him aside and looked at him concernedly.

“It’s been noted you’ve been spending a lot of time with Solona Amell.” Cullen had been terrified they knew about the previous night somehow, but then Greagoir continued, “It is wise if you put some distance between the two of you, before one or both of you gets hurt, Cullen.” Then he’d left the young Templar to decide for himself and as he glanced across the way he’d seen Irving talking with her and she’d looked noticeably upset before she’d nodded and given the old man a faint smile. She’d looked his way and when she caught sight of him, he saw the sad smile on her lips before lowering her gaze to the floor, her fingers twined into her robes like she did when she was stressed.

It felt a little bit like someone was pounding rusty nails into his heart, as she walked past him, head still down. He wanted to greet her, but he knew that both the First Enchanter and Knight Commander had just given them their only warning. They could have done much worse, could’ve discharged him and made her Tranquil immediately, but they had only issued a gentle reminder that this was not what was supposed to happen. Cullen told himself they were trying to protect both of them, but some part of him knew that it didn’t come entirely from compassion. If she ever succumbed to blood magic and they had been allowed to get permanently attached it would put him and the entire Tower at risk. Because Cullen wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to kill her if she ever got possessed.

 

As more days passed, how he felt for her didn’t waver and if he was any judge of eyes whenever they were lucky enough to meet each other’s gaze, she hadn’t changed her mind either. But they kept their distance like they were expected to, and it was only very rarely when they were able to exchange any words at all. Though he couldn’t help but smile when she started turning their sparse conversations into a game, trying to fit as much as she could in only a few words.

“Nice day today isn’t it?” She was standing by a window as he was walking by her.

“Sure, but have you _seen_ the western closet on the third floor?” He could hear the grin in her voice as he almost stumbled.

 

“Good day Miss Amell, I trust you’re doing well?” She glanced up, ran her eyes over his face with a rueful quirk to her lips, before she returned to her book once more.

“Hello, Ser Cullen, it looks like I’m doing about as good as you.”

 

“I haven’t seen you around, Miss Sol.”

“I think you’ve probably seen more of me than anyone else.” He almost choked on his food at her quiet response, and when he dared look at her face a smile was twitching her lips upwards.

 

“It’s late, you should be in your room.” She paused her walk, and looked up at him.

“I miss you.” Then she disappeared down the hallway.

 

One year later, he stood in the room watching her reach out and touch the pedestal, praying to the Maker that he wouldn’t have to kill her, eyes riveted on her as she collapsed. He winced when her head hit the floor hard, but he could scarcely linger on that as he felt like he was choking on the worry that when she woke up it wouldn’t be gentle brown eyes looking at him.

It took an hour, no more, no less. Right at an hour she stirred, and everyone present immediately tensed with hands on weapons. Cullen was perhaps the tensest of all, his mind racing through a million different scenarios, all ending with his sword in her chest. She let out a little groan, putting a hand to her head as she sat up.

“Solona?” Irving ventured, moving nearer to her. She blinked a few times and Cullen knew even before she spoke, and the relief made his knees weak. She looked past Irving, eyes on Cullen, and she smiled. They were their normal warm autumn brown, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

 

“I was the one they selected to… stop you if you failed.”

“Well we’re both lucky that I didn’t fail then.” She chuckled, as they stood outside of Irving’s chambers, waiting on the Warden to be done speaking with the First Enchanter.

“We are, I’m glad that…” he trailed off, seeming reluctant to speak to her out in the open, “I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to…” The doorknob turned, and she glanced over at him.

“Perhaps we can talk later?” He knew what she was implying, and he couldn’t help but be a little flustered at this.

“Ah, well I don’t… Um maybe…” he trailed off as the door opened, and she smiled at him. Not the bright grin that lit him up inside, or the amused smile she gave him when she thought he was doing something endearing, but a gentle one that he couldn’t help but return. Then she looked in mild surprise over at the Grey Warden, before the curiosity lit up her face.

“I bet you’ve got some interesting stories.” She said, glancing up at his rugged, scarred face and the Warden laughed at her.

“I’ve got enough.”

“Well I’ve got to take you to your room, so we’ve got time for that.”

“As you wish, miss.” He said, as she started leading away, leaving Cullen wish he could’ve gone with them. Before she vanished around the curve, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

Just like that his heart was gone all over again.

 

Then the Warden took her away. She went because she’d never seen the outside world, and Duncan was in a hurry so all Cullen got was a last smile, oddly torn between upset and joy. She mouthed an apology at him, but then Duncan was hurrying her out the door and Cullen got a glimpse of black hair before the door shut.

It was a bit like having the whole world shut away from him, he thought hazily.

 

The next time he saw her it was in a nightmare as a demon curled his fingers into Cullen’s head, and tore apart every memory he had of her. Piece by piece, he brought the Templar to his knees and completely ripped him open. He watched his comrades die; one by one, heard each and every scream. Sometimes they were his own screams. He didn’t know what was real and what was fake, all he knew was that at some point black hair and brown eyes brought him heart-wrenching, nauseating terror. That awful copy of her became real to him, and he gradually forgot the one who he’d spent hours with in the library. Forgot the one who’d been out in the middle of that storm asking the sky for answers as if it could speak, and if that wasn’t enough he forgot her smile too. All he knew was the sharp, wicked thing on her face as she leaned down and whispered awful things into his ear as her fingers curled into his skin until it was all he could do to not succumb to smashing his own head against the floor until all of this ended.

 

And then one day, somewhere in the midst of all that torture, he saw others. Assuming it was still a dream, he’d lashed out at first, not listening to them trying to reason with him. Though when Wynne stepped forward and held up her hand, blue eyes soft with concern, he began to wonder if someone had finally gotten in the tower. Just as he was about to demand they go kill this demon and every mage up there with him, someone else stepped into the doorway breathless.

“Okay, sorry guys, I didn’t mean to take so long. I-” she caught sight of the barrier and the man it contained then, and all thought ceased. Whereas Cullen was up on his feet, backing away, eyes stretched wide with fear at the mage.

“He is trying to trick me again.” He muttered to himself, hands going to his head, “Begone demon, leave me be.” His voice was a hoarse bark as he met her shocked gaze. Solona stepped forward though, right up to the barrier, even as his knees gave out and he found himself on the floor.

“Cullen, it’s me! Don’t you recognize me?”

“You, twisted bitch, get out of my head.” He snarled, and the hurt on her face didn’t register with the Templar.

“Cullen, Cullen what did they do to you?” her voice was soft as she knelt down beside the barrier, unable to reach him even though all she wanted to do was hold him because her heart was aching for him. Her hand rested against the barrier as she willed him to look at her again, but he kept his eyes away.

“Get away from me. You’re not _real_. I don’t even know if she ever existed or if she was just created by you to make this that much harder.”

“Cullen, what are you talking about? I’m real, it’s Solona. You know me. Surely you know me. Please, Cullen.” Her voice was quavering and her companions retreated away from the pair out of respect, as she watched at him pleadingly.

“She was gentle if she was real.” He said numbly, eyes on her finally, just terribly blank, “That Warden took her away. Even if she was real, she’s probably dead now.”

“I am real and I’m not dead. I’m here to save you. To save the Circle.” His eyes hardened at this and he lunged at the barrier, causing her wince away, as his fists collided with it.

“You have to kill everyone up there. Mages, demons alike. They are one in the same now.”

“I’m going to see what’s happening first, Cullen.” She whispered, pressing her hands against the barrier again, where his fists were still resting. He stared at her through the thin blue thing, his face twisted in repulsion.

“That sounds like something she would say.” She blinked away tears that had suddenly appeared.

“I’m so sorry, Cullen. I should have got here sooner.”

“You should have.” he spat, “No one is debating that.” As he said this, the hurt that crossed her face registered and it gave him a pause. Because in his time within this barrier, all the times he’d seen her, he’d never seen that expression. What if this was real? This hadn’t occurred to him, and as he stared silently into her face and how the tears were slipping down her cheeks, he felt wretched.

“I…”

“I’m going to go help those mages, Cullen. I cannot simply kill them.” She told him, wiping roughly at her eyes.

“You are making an egregious mistake.” He said then, unable to tell her sorry in the red-hazed fury that had taken over at these words. His friends were _dead_ , and she intended on saving the ones who’d done it.

“We’ll break you out afterwards, just hang on a little longer.” She whispered to him, before she got to her feet again as if everything hurt. As she turned around, he wished he could’ve spoken, but all he felt was the remnants of anger and horror now intermingled with guilt. He watched her though, as she made her way up the steps, and he was aware enough through his own pain to wish he could take back his thoughts.

 

She saved the mages, of course. She saved Irving and those who’d been with him, and she’d traveled all across the Fade to save her friends. And after all that, as weary and tired as she looked she’d come to check on him again. The barrier had fallen, but he hadn’t been able to force himself to step out of where it had held him. He might’ve fallen asleep or passed out, as he’d remembered opening his eyes as she crouched beside him.

“Please, Cullen, stay still.” She said, even as he was about to shove her away, because he didn’t want anything to do with magic right now. And even though she brought out poultices and whispered familiar prayers to calm him instead of using her magic, he found himself trembling until she stopped. That agony was in her face again, and he knew he must’ve looked frightful to her, because then she’d asked the boy behind her that reminded him of a puppy to aid him.

“Alistair, help him up please.” Her voice was choked, and Cullen was torn between fleeing from her as fast as possible and collapsing across her lap. This so-called Alistair, got him to his feet though as Solona remained seated.

“Are you coming down?”

“In a few minutes.” She replied, giving him a weak smile even though her eyes stayed on Cullen.

“Take your time.” He said reassuringly, before leading Cullen away. Cullen glanced over his shoulder just once in time to see her bury her face in her knees and crumple in on herself. His gaze lingered only a moment though, before he turned his back on her.

He watched her leave a couple hours later from across the room. She hadn’t dared approach him again, but after she had bid farewell to the First Enchanter and to the Knight-Commander, she’d looked past the pair at him.

_Smile_ , he heard the voice in his head plea before he could stop it, _for the love of the Maker, remind me what your smile looks like because I have forgotten._ He’d been about to look away and curse himself for a fool, as his hands clasped the mug in his hand tightly to keep from shaking, when of all things she did. Bright and shining like silver against the sun. He wanted to return it, he wanted her to leave without him being scared and angry, but he couldn’t.

It was too much for him, and he looked away fast enough so he wouldn’t see her face fall. He knew that smile again though, and locked it away somewhere deep inside his heart.

 

They decided to send him to Kirkwall, somewhere far away from this damnable place, somewhere safe and easy they said. His nightmares weren’t as frequent anymore, and he could even bear being around magic again without having to disappear and practice the breathing exercises he’d been taught. He agreed to go, though part of him was still reluctant to leave for some reason. It would be a relief, though, to be somewhere different. Somewhere that he didn’t see a demon peering around every corner.

However, days before he was scheduled to leave, the Circle had a visitor. This in itself wasn’t so unusual, though after the demon invasion their frequent coming and going had decreased substantially, what was unusual was who the visitor was. It brought a whisper throughout the whole tower, people saying that one of the Grey Wardens that had saved the Circle was here. His heart had leapt into his throat initially, but then he’d heard that it wasn’t a girl with brown eyes. He hadn’t gone to seek out the Warden, but had instead stole up to the roof where the Warden had found him.

“Ser Cullen,” He said, in a voice hoarse and sad, “I have something for you.” Cullen turned to him, took in the shadows under the Warden’s eyes; Alistair was his name, if he recalled. Cullen didn’t ask though, merely offered his hand for whatever it was. It was a letter bound with a green ribbon, and with his name scrawled across the front. He accepted it wordlessly, as the Warden put a hand to his shoulders.

“Solona is gone.” He said and Cullen felt ill, though he’d suspected it as soon as he’d heard there was a Warden here and it wasn’t Solona. Had been dreading this moment ever since he’d heard the archdemon had been slain by Grey Wardens. There was no burst of agony or the feel of his heart ripping in two, he simply felt nothing. He was numb and cold, and didn’t even feel like a person as he held this letter in his trembling hands.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let her do it.” Cullen could barely see the other young man whose sadness lined his face and made him seem older, “I shouldn’t have left her.”

“What do you mean?” he asked then, the first words he’d spoken even though his voice wasn’t his own. He didn’t really care honestly, it just seemed like the appropriate question to ask.

“We had an argument before the final battle and I stormed off. It should have been me that died with that dragon.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted that.” He answered automatically, “Now please excuse me.”

“Of course.” Alistair said quietly, before turning to go, though he paused at the entrance to the top of the tower, “I don’t know what that letter says, but I know that her heart was here until the very end. With you, I think.”

“I did not deserve it.” Cullen’s eyes were on the letter now, “Maker forgive me, but I sent her away in silence.” He turned dully up to Alistair, morbid curiosity getting the best of him, “May I ask what this argument was about?” Alistair winced, but nodded.

“She spared the Teyrn.”

“Loghain?”

“Yes, for some reason she listened to his daughter’s pleas even though he’d murdered half of our order and King Cailan.” The anger left his face as quickly as it had come, “But forgive me, it doesn’t matter now. I should have stayed, shouldn’t have gotten so mad at her.”

“Thank you for bringing me this.” How _typical_ , he thought, how fucking _typical_.

“It was the least I could do.” He said, examining Cullen, “I just hope you’ll find peace in that letter.” He took his leave then, leaving the Templar staring at the letter, wondering if he really wanted to open it. Part of him wanted to just throw it to the wind and let the lake have it. He held it tightly in his hand though, to the point of pain, before his gaze landed on the spot she’d been standing in the storm. Her hands flickering with lightning and her voice a scream, mingling with her turning on him with those same sparking hands, a cold smile on her face as she walked towards him in the howling rain. His memories were still tainted with the manipulation of the demon, making it hard for him to differentiate what had happened and what hadn’t. He still hadn’t been able to shake the terrible memories out of his head and was beginning to suspect he might never.

And now she was… gone and any chance to fully amend those memories. It still hadn’t registered fully what that meant, and he glanced down at the letter once more. The pain in his chest was dull and throbbing, consistent, and he wondered vaguely if it would go away. With that he moved to sit down so that his back was to the wall, directly beneath where she had stood. He unbound the ribbon and held it to his nose reflexively, closing his eyes when a delicate scent reached for him that had to be her perfume. He pressed the scrap of green cloth to his lips then, glad the demon hadn’t corrupted that. Then with shaking fingers he unfolded the letter and stared at her handwriting in a stupor, not reading, just looking. It had been her hand that had written this, before she had gone to her death knowingly.

He barely made it through the first sentence, and each one after that. With every word his left hand would clench his sword hilt tighter and tighter until pain was radiating from his hand and he’d reached the end of the letter. At that point it seemed like every part of him was hurting, and his eyes were blurred as anger and pain worked their way through his veins. His chest hurt perhaps most of all as the grief finally arrived, slamming into him and leaving him breathless. No matter how he tried to control his breathing, he found it was gone, and every breath was tightening whatever was around his heart until he thought that maybe he was dying.

The loss lanced through him like lightning across the sky, as he crumpled up the letter in his hands and held it to him to fight against drowning. He lost though, and then the tears came and he could do nothing to stop them. They were hot, angry tears brought on by his rage at himself and the world and that stupid, brilliant mage with the black hair and brown eyes who could put the stars in the sky with her smile. The one whose last words were in his hands right now, whose ribbon was would around his fingers, whose last thoughts were bouncing around his head in a ghostly echo.

_Not a day has gone by that I have not loved you._


End file.
